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[magister-verdant]

Hey Magister! Are you familiar with Ulmus, from the Dark Forest? And do you know, are there others like him? Or even others like you?

Ulmus… yes, I know him. And I miss him—and his dreams—dearly, when I think on him.

In a moment of weakness, or perhaps selfishness, I invited him to stay in my garden. He declined, of course. His duty is to the Isles. And I understood. Truly.

But I still offered. And he, in his kindness, offered something back: a night in his grove.

We slept beneath the branches together, and I dreamed the way he dreams—slowly, richly. Of light caught in the canopy, the bramble of deep roots intertwined, and drinking the rain’s dew. I think it was the closest I’ve ever come to my time before Merlin. The stillness was almost familiar.

Are there others like him? I know it, though I have not met them. Treants are quite rare. Are there others like me? I would hope not—the in-between of light and soil is not really a place where one can be. I remain stuck two divinities who see the world very differently.

Sometimes I wonder what I would have become if I had been allowed to remain still. Would Misarte have granted me the ability to walk like Ulmus? Would I have wanted it?

[ndostairlyrium]

ALLORA.

Ela/Alyra (doverosa.)

Barbara Hawke/Dorian

no vabbè crepo

Ela/Alyra (Elyra? omg)

Do I ship that? Y E S. Nature would heal, faces would cleanse, crops would be watered. Would Ela want that? She transforms into a doormat when it comes to powerful women (even if she doesn't realize it's more than respect until a certain point) so a huge yes from her as well. At the beginning, at least. Would Alyra want that? ... I'm asking, really 🥺

I can see it, like, they prefer action over words, and hate to waste time on stupid ideas / people. They would totally gang up to bully Teagan and the First Warden, for sure! If they had to team up against the Blight, Origins would have lasted two weeks and a half only rather than a full year.

I think Ela would gladly be the muscle if they happened to work together, but at the same time she would complain a lot about Alyra's methods, and viceversa. Also Ela isn't the most political savy person, she left that life behind, and she wasn't suited for it to begin with. She hasn't the brain capacity to both engage and care for politics. Plus, she isn't as farsighted as Alyra, she's more impulsive and acts on immediate threat to next to immediate threat. I think they would really clash on that? Or just, work on their own thing and then catch up later. That could work I think.

I'm afraid that, in order to work, it would need to be a long distance relationship :'D if they had to stay in close proximity for weeks, one would learn how to hurt the other, proceed to do so, and then they would just glare at each other in complete silence for hours - bourbon break included.

Also I'm sure Alyra would go crazy over Ela's lack of vision, or style, or igiene, or the fact that when she moves, she produces a sound that is comparable to shaking a tin can full of nails lol

10/10 anyway, because they'd make a gorgeous couple and they'd turn their airling squeaky clean with the power of blinkless side-eyes and frustration over Men TM.

Poor Nathaniel

Barbara/Dorian

Actually, I wrote and discarded a long ass chapter about them interacting and massively hating on each other lol

But no, they wouldn't work. They're rather incompatible.

First of all, I think they would both have prejudices, and their upbringing would come out a lot as an excuse for their awful behavior. Hawke thinks of Dorian as a spoiled child with an embarassing lack of empathy, who came south for personal reasons trying to pass it as a selfless act. Dorian thinks Hawke has the attitude of a martyr who lacks martyrdom, a borderline envious people pleaser, and someone who would rather take the blame for his tragedies rather than process them.

And that's just the tip of the iceberg, I'm afraid. The only thing they have in common, other than their sexuality, is the occasional naked shoulder.

[causeimhappinesss]

Rome's Devotion (part 3)

Warnings: Emperors Geta & Caracalla are warnings themselves, (slight?) blasphemy, non-con/dub-con, misogyny (Ancient Rome, so…)

Pairing: Geta x Christian!reader x Caracalla

Words: 5k

Disclaimer: English isn’t my native language (I’m french), so you can correct me if you spot some mistakes :)

Masterlist

-

Claudia’s hand shakes my shoulder, her touch insistent. Her breath, warm against my ear, carries a hint of urgency.

“Get up.”

I burrow deeper under the coarse woolen blanket, turning my face toward the cool, unyielding wall. My limbs feel leaden, as if the weight of my dread has seeped into my very bones, anchoring me to the straw-stuffed mattress… It anchored me to the arch reality.  

“I’m sick.” I murmur, the words barely more than a whisper, lacking conviction. Thankfully, my morning voice could save me. At least, I hope it will. Around us, the other girls stir, their movements sluggish as they emerge from the grasp of sleep. The air is thick with the mingling scents of candles perfume, sweat, and the lingering traces of last night’s lamp oil.

Claudia crosses her arms over her chest, her brow furrowing. There’s no doubt: she doesn’t believe one single world leaving my mouth.

“You can’t avoid the emperors forever.”

A shiver courses through me when she mentions them, a visceral reaction I can’t suppress. The mere thought of facing their piercing gazes, their veiled threats, accepting their hands on my body, sends a wave of nausea rolling through my stomach. The dark brunette sighs, the sound heavy with empathy and frustration. Lowering herself onto the edge of the bed, the wooden frame creaking beneath her weight, she speaks softly:

“Listen... If you really don’t want to go today, take my place. Lucius and Fabia are heading to the Macellum (market). You’re a free woman, the Magister Domus will likely agree.”

The Magister Domus, the overseer of the household, holds dominion over the servants, female or male, with an iron fist, his authority rivaling that of a centurion over his legion. His hair are only made of silver strings, emphasizing his sharps features and the lines carved on his face. He ensures that every task is completed with precision, that discipline is maintained, and that the intricate machinery of the household runs smoothly. However, hope flickers within me, tentative and fragile, just like a flame needing more oil to burn. I sit up, the sudden movement causing a slight dizziness.

“Really?”

Claudia nods, her expression softening. I grasp her hand, squeezing it tightly, seeking reassurance

“Thank you, Claudia.”

She shakes her head, a rueful smile playing on her lips, before pulling me into a brief, firm embrace.

“Don’t think this will last. If they summon you, you’ll have to obey.”

I nod, swallowing the lump that has formed in my throat, words eluding me.

We move through our morning rituals with haste. The water from the basin bites at my skin, each splash a jolt to my senses, washing away the remnants of sleep. The simple breakfast of coarse bread and figs feels like a feast today, each bite a small comfort, knowing I won’t have to face the emperors’ oppressive presence.

Together, we approach the Magister Domus’ quarters. He stands amidst a sea of servants, giving them orders, his sharp eyes missing nothing. The room is filled with the scent of freshly laundered fabric and the faint, underlying aroma of the herbs used to deter moths.

His gaze lifts as we enter, a flicker of irritation crossing his features even before we speak.

Claudia steps forward, her voice steady.

“Magister Domus, I don’t feel well this morning. Y/N volunteers to take my place to walk to the Macellum.”

The silence that follows is thick, stretching uncomfortably, as the Magister Domus’ eyes bore into us, weighing the truth of Claudia’s words.

Finally, he clicks his tongue, a sharp, disapproving sound. “You’re all lazy. It’s irritating!”

He scrutiny shifts to me, his eyes narrowing, as if he’s searching for any sign of deceit, any reason to deny the request. The tension is palpable, my heart pounding in my chest like a war drum.

Then, with a sigh, he shakes his head, clearly annoyed. Usually, he’s the one giving orders, when the emperors don’t, but his lack of time play in my favor.

“Fine. But tomorrow, I don’t want to hear lame excuses. Now, go to work!”

Relief floods through me, so profound that I feel lightheaded. A breath I hadn’t realized I was holding escapes my lips.

Today, I am free.

*

The sun beats down on the city, turning the air thick and stifling. Heat shimmers off the stone streets as I follow Lucius and Fabia through the crowd, weaving between merchants and slaves carrying baskets overflowing with figs, olives, and amphorae of wine. The scent of fresh bread mingles with the sharper tang of vinegar and the sweet decay of overripe fruit. For the first time in days, my chest feels light. The oppressive walls of the palace no longer press in on me. Here, among the voices bartering and laughing, among the scents of the earth and the sea, I breathe freely.

I miss my old life, that’s for sure, but after my brother and mother died, I lost everything. I was evicted from the place I was living in and had lost my job some time before. This led me to Rome, in the hope of finding work, first as a servant to Senator Gracchus before I was introduced to the Magister Domus of Palatine Hill, where I was promised a more suitable salary… The money I’m saving. The food and shelter I was also given weren’t inconsiderable, it was way better than working in a brothel. I couldn’t have been a lady of the night.

Lucius hands a small wax tablet to a butcher, listing the cuts of meat for the palace kitchens. Fabia haggles over the price of onions, clicking her tongue in disapproval at the merchant’s demand. I let my gaze wander.

Then, I see him.

A young man stands near a stall selling amphorae of oil, the golden liquid glistening in the midday light. His profile is sharp, his posture relaxed, yet something about him twists my stomach into knots. My breath catches. My legs stiffen.

My brother.

No. It can’t be.

But the shape of his jaw, the way his dark hair curls at the nape of his neck… It’s the same. My mouth goes dry. My fingers tighten around the edge of my dress. My brother is dead. I know this. I saw him buried. I buried him. Still, my feet move before I can stop them.

The world spins around me, but I cannot tear my eyes from the scene before me. My brother’s body lies in the dirt, an unnatural stillness to his form that pulls at my soul, rips it apart. His face, once full of warmth and life, is now pale and lifeless. His eyes, wide open but seeing nothing, stare at the sky, so empty… Empty for the eternity. The soldiers stand around him, their boots sinking into the mud, their weapons dripping with the blood of my family.

I can’t breathe.

My chest tightens, suffocating under the weight of what has just happened. I want to scream, to shout at the heavens, at the gods, at the soldiers, at the crowd that has already begun to scatter as if nothing had happened. But the scream catches in my throat, and all that escapes is a strangled sob.

“Y/N.”

Rufina’s voice breaks through the haze of my grief. My friend’s hands are on my shoulders, her grip tight, urgent, pulling me away. But I can’t… I can’t leave him. He’s my brother. My blood. My heart.

I want to scream his name, Valerius, but no sound comes. The only thing I hear is the pounding of my heart, the rush of blood in my ears, and the sound of the soldiers’ boots retreating from the scene, as though what they’ve done is just another task completed for the day.

Rufina’s breath is hot against my ear as she tugs at me, urging me to move.

“Y/N, we have to go."

I shake my head violently, my legs refusing to cooperate. It’s as if the ground itself is pulling me down, rooting me in place, but Rufina shows to be stronger than my grief. She pulls me back, drags me away, but my feet drag behind. I feel the weight of each step, like moving through water.

But I still can’t look away.

“Y/N, please.” Rufina whispers, her voice strained. “He’s gone. You have to come with me.”

I don’t know how I stand, but I do. My legs wobble, and my breath comes in ragged gasps. Every part of me wants to collapse, to crumble into the dirt beside him, but Rufina won’t let me. She’s forcing me forward, her hand over mine now, pulling me through the crowd, away from the square. The stares of the onlookers follow us, but none of them say a word. I don’t know if they pity me or not. I don’t know if they even care.

“Come, please. You’re safe.” Rufina says, her voice quieter now, but still insistent.

“But he’s not! He’s… He’s…”

Tears spills of my cheeks, they flow like an angry sea, they come in waves, each one burning my skin, rolling down my face, falling to the ground like raindrops in a storm. My throat constricts, and a sound that isn’t quite a sob escapes me. I want to shout at the gods. I want to demand that they give me back my brother. I want to tear the sky open and make the sun answer for what it’s done.

“Why, Rufina? Why?” I gasp, my voice barely a whisper, my words choked with grief. “Why did they…? He… He was just trying to save our mother, he was trying to save her…”

Rufina’s hand squeezes mine tightly and she pulls me forward, away from the square, from that crowd of vultures, not humans… Just scavengers satisfied with death, blood, decaying bodies.

“He was a thief, my dear friend. Those rich Romans won’t care why he did it. It doesn’t matter now.”

But it matters. It matters. My brother, my sweet, older and kind brother, was only trying to help us. He only wanted to get the medicine for our dying mother. The soldiers don’t care about that. They didn’t care about his reason. The first time it happened, he had to pay four times the price of the medicine. This second time, he paid the price of his life.  

“I couldn’t stop them.” I whisper, choking on my tears, the salted taste slipping on my tongue. “I couldn’t save him.”

The woman wraps her arm around my waist, supporting me as I stumble. “You didn’t have the power to stop them. You did what you could. Now you need to come with me. We need to go. NOW!” she insists as some gazes linger on us.

But as we walk, I can’t stop seeing him, his body lying on the ground, the blood still fresh in the dirt. My brother is gone. And I can’t bring him back. I can’t bring him back.

“Rufina…” I murmur, my voice broken. “What will I do now? He was all my mother and I had left.”

Her face softens, but she says nothing. She doesn’t need to. I can feel her sorrow for me in the way her arm tightens around me, in the way she keeps me close, never letting go. Around us, the city keeps living, movies, just as its citizens. People go about their business, oblivious to the tragedy that has just unfolded. So many people meet that kind of fate, that’s nothing new. The market smells of fresh bread and spices, but I can’t smell anything but the metallic blood, the dirt, and the emptiness that fills the space inside of me.

My brother is gone. And nothing will ever be the same.

“I… I need to bury him… I can’t leave him like that…”

“Y/N?”

A hand grabs my shoulder. I jerk back, reality crashing down as Fabia’s concerned face swims into view. Her gray eyes darkens with curiosity and she tilts her head, while Lucius sighs.

“Come on. We still have work to do. I don't intend to be chastised for being ineffective.”

The young man I was admiring turns and leaves the market, while my breath shudders out of me.

Not him. Not even close.

This man is taller, his limbs leaner. His skin is darker, sun-kissed in a way my brother’s never was. His features lack the sharpness I knew so well, his eyes softer, his lips curved into an unfamiliar expression.

I nod and force my feet forward, but my chest aches as if I’ve lost my brother all over again.

Valerius only lives in my memory.

*

The walk back to Palatine Hill feels like a slow, torturous march. The heat from the day still lingers in the air, and the sun begins to dip below the horizon, painting the sky in deep orange and pink shades, as if Minerva, the Goddess of arts was painting in the clouds, at least for other people. To me, it’s just the natural amazing work of art God created, what I imagine in the Garden of Eden. Soon, my mind spins, my thoughts a whirl of dread and exhaustion, while my feet feel like they belong to someone else as they drag across the cobblestones. The great city fades into the background as the towering palace looms ahead, its sheer walls suffocating. The idea of facing the Emperors tonight sends a wave of nausea creeping up my throat, and my chest tightens as if something heavy is pressing down on me.

I try to breathe, to steady myself, but the closer I get to the palace gates, the more my stomach churns. The quiet whispers in the back of my mind grow louder…

Don’t let them see you, don’t let them call on you.

I push those disturbing thoughts away, but they won’t quiet. The idea of being summoned, of having to stand before them in all their power, is unbearable. I can’t do it. Not tonight. Not again and so soon.

I slow my pace, feeling the tension rise with each step. My chest heaves, my body betrays me. The sweat on my brow isn’t just from the heat, it’s cold… The product of deep fear. I clutch at my side, pretending my stomach hurts, trying to make my gait unsteady. I bite my lip, hard, praying that people will notice and believe my next lies.

Oh dear Lord, I know it’s a sin, but you have to understand me… I must avoid them at all cost, for my moral and body integrity.

At some point, when we’re all in our servants quarter, with Claudia, I catch the glance she gives me, somewhat half curious, half concerned.

“Are you alright? You look pale, sickly.” she notes, her voice gentle as always, except when she’s anxious or in a bad mood. She’s always been kind, but even she can’t protect me from everything, especially those perverted Emperors.

“I’m not feeling well.” I whisper, my voice wavering just enough to make it sound convincing. “I’m dizzy. My head… It hurts. I think I’m coming down with something.”

I look up at her, and I can see the hesitation in her eyes. She’s about to say something, but then she sighs, her shoulders sinking.

“Fine. You can rest in your bed tonight, if they send someone for you. The others and I will handle the rest.” she mutters.

Relief washes over me, but it’s tinged with guilt. I hate lying. I hate using people’s kindness like this. Alas, it’s my only way out, I have to take it.

After a quick dinner with a tasteless whine, some bread, vegetables and cheese, I hurry to get in my little bed, in the middle of the others. Here, the soft, musty scent of incense fills the air, and the pale golden lights from the window barely cuts through the heavy curtains. I feel the weight of everything pressing down on me. I collapse onto the bed, the sheets cool against my skin. I bury my face in the pillow, my eyes closed, not even listening to the surrounding conversations, while the other servants, free citizen like me or slaves, fill the room.

And then, just as I start to drift off, I hear it, the soft, steady knock on the door. My heart leaps into my throat, my stomach flipping with panic.

No, please, not me not yet. I beg silently. The sound of footsteps follows, and I freeze. Someone opens the door and a man clears his throat.

“Y/N is summoned to serve the emperors.” the voice calls out softly, but firmly.

I don’t move. I don’t even dare to breathe. I'm pretending to be in a deep sleep, when this man could grab me by the ankles and drag me out. The door creaks more open, I hear some light steps and Claudia’s voice:

 “She’s sick.”

“She’s been in bed all evening. Won’t be able to serve tonight.” adds someone else.

Good people still exist…

A brief silence. I can feel the weight of the Pretorian’s presence through the door, his impatience radiating. But then he sighs, the sound of retreating footsteps following.

“Very well.” he says, and I listen to the faint scrape of the door closing.

My chest heaves with the release of the breath I didn’t know I was holding. It’s done.

I let myself sink deeper into the bed, the blankets enveloping me like a cocoon. My heart is still racing, but now it’s from relief. I can’t believe it. They won’t call for me tonight. I close my eyes and feel the tension in my body start to ease, slowly, painfully.

And then, before I can stop it, the exhaustion hits me like a wave. My limbs feel heavy, and my head, finally free from the terror of the night, grows foggy. I let the warmth of sleep take me, the quiet peace settling around me.

Tomorrow, the Emperors will be there, waiting. Tomorrow, I might be summoned. Tomorrow, I won’t be able to escape. But for tonight, I’m still free.

I wake to a faint touch on my hips, fingers gently brushing over the skin. My heart races. I freeze, eyes still closed. I can’t help but it’s a dream. Unfortunately, the pressure doesn’t fade. The hairs on the back of my neck stand up. My body tense when the soft whisper of a male voice reaches my ears:

“Are you hiding from us, little lamb?”

I nearly jump out of my skin, my breath catching in my throat. My pulse pounds and my blood buzz in my ears. The room feels too small, too suffocating. I open my eyes, every instinct screaming at me to move, to run, but I lie there, frozen.

It’s him.

Caracalla.

I can hear his soft chuckles, like he’s enjoying my discomfort, like he’s watching me, waiting for me to do something, anything. I dare not move and look up yet. I can’t.

Should I respond? Should I beg for mercy or stay silent? How long will they torment me before they get bored? Before I feel like I’ve lost everything?

Slowly, I raise my head and see the man as he stands there, imposing even if he’s shorter than his brother with his average height. A slight smirk spreads on his face as his azure eyes linger on me. I immediately pull the blanket tighter around my body, grateful I’m still in my night dress, though it feels like no protection at all. I try to act calm, but my voice trembles.

“I-I’m sick. Th-That’s why I’m h-here.” I stutter.

Caracalla doesn’t seem to be listening. He leans closer, eyes scanning me with a strange intensity.

“I know you’re sick, but I must admit I’m highly disappointed.”

Before I can say another word, he reaches out, his finger brushing against my chest, then slowly drawing something on me. I freeze. The Holy Cross. He traces it carefully, and I can hardly breathe, my skin tingling where his finger touches.

“In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit, you are healed!” He says softly, mockingly.

He flicks my nose, gently but decisively, and I am left dumbfounded, blinking up at him in confusion. He laughs softly, a quiet giggle that makes my stomach twist with discomfort.

“Is that what filthy Christians say, no?” he asks, his voice laced with amusement.

I try to swallow the lump in my throat, not wanting to anger him, but I barely manage a whisper. “It’s almost that.”

Actually, I don’t dare say more, fear tightening around my chest like a vice. I don’t want to die. I’m still young. I dream of finding the right husband to have children with him. I dream of happiness.

Suddenly, a strange thought crosses my mind then. Do Caracalla and Geta used to sneak into the servants’ room, that women they loved, when they were children? Did they have this same kind of strange power over everyone around them? Was this just how they grew up, twisting the world to their will? I shudder at the thought.

I force my voice to stay steady, not sure what to do.

“Augustus, maybe you should leave now. You’ll get sick too.” My voice is soft, pleading, and I pray he’ll go. I don’t want him here, not with the power he holds, the dangerous curiosity that glints in his eyes.

He looks down at me, completely unfazed. His smile deepens.

“That’s not a problem. I’m tough. I’ve seen war, little lamb. I’ve been through campaigns since I could walk.”

I blink, unsure how to respond. His confidence is overwhelming, and I feel small, insignificant in his presence. What could I possibly say to make him leave? I want to shout, to scream for him to go away, but I know that would make everything worse, such as ending beheaded. Instead, I stay silent, clutching the sheets tighter, trying to gather some strength, but it feels like a futile effort.

Caracalla leans over me, his broad frame blocking the space between us, while his hypnotizing eyes lock onto mine, burning with a mix of power and something else, something darker. His hands move without hesitation, sliding slowly under the covers, fingers grazing my legs. My body stiffens, a jolt of fear running through me. I try to pull away, but there’s nowhere to go, the bed too small, the space too tight. I feel his fingers creeping further, the heat of his touch against my skin sending a shiver through me that has nothing to do with desire. It’s pure terror.

Jesus… Help me…

“No.” I whisper, my voice trembling.

I force myself to speak louder, to stop him before I lose control.

“I’m bleeding.”

His hand freezes, his fingers hovering over my legs as if he’s waiting for some kind of confirmation. I can barely breathe, my pulse thudding in my throat. For a moment, everything is so still that I think I might suffocate under the weight of the silence. Then, he blinks, and a smirk plays at the corner of his lips. His gaze darkens with amusement, as if I’ve said something absurd.

“Blood doesn’t scare me, far from it.” he replies, his voice low and thick, almost amused.

I want to crawl out of my skin, to run, but I stay still, frozen in place by the force of his words. His hands are still there, moving slowly as though testing me, and I can’t breathe. The world feels like it’s shrinking. I slide my hands over his, my fingers trembling as I try to push them away. The motion feels weak, like I’m trying to hold back a flood.

“I don’t like it,” I manage to say, my voice cracking. “It’s dirty.”

The words taste bitter in my mouth, but they’re the only thing I can think of. I can feel the heat rising in my cheeks as I try to control the tremor in my hands.

"I’m not worthy… not worthy of soiling you, my Emperor."

The moment I speak those words, something changes in his expression. His smirk falters, his eyes narrowing as he watches me closely. He doesn’t pull away, but something flickers in the air between us, something cold, distant, before his lips curl again, just a little. He doesn’t move his hands, doesn’t push further, but instead he leans in closer. My breath catches in my throat as he tilts his head, his face coming so close to mine that I can feel the warmth of his breath waving on my skin. Then, with slow, deliberate movement, he shifts his lips to my neck. His breath against my skin is almost unbearable. My body tenses. Heat spreads across my skin as if I’ve been set aflame. My heart races.

I feel the heat of his lips on my neck, the faintest touch, just enough to make me feel dizzy. All of a sudden, his tongue slides over my burning skin, traces its way higher, to my jaw. I blush deeply, my skin smoldering, my hands clammy against the sheets. A warmth spreads through my lower abdomen and my breathing quickens in an erratic race, like my heartbeat. He lingers, just a breath away, his nose brushing against my skin as though inhaling the very scent of me. Something in my lower abdomen throbs.  My chest tightens, my throat closing as if I can’t breathe. I feel the weight of his presence, his power, his dominance closing in around me. And I feel small, so small, unworthy of the way he looks at me.  

What’s happening to me…?

I can’t stand it anymore. The shame is suffocating, choking me. I yank my body back, my eyes wide with panic, my pulse pounding in my ears. My hands press against the mattress as if push myself through against the wooden headboard, away from him, from the suffocating heat of his touch.

How could I have let this happen? What did I just let him do?

I want to crawl into a hole and disappear, my face flushed, my chest tight with mortification. Before I can collect myself, the door to the room swings open with a loud crash.

Geta.

He’s standing there, frozen in the doorway, his eyes wide and locked onto us. His face is unreadable, but there’s something in his expression, something sharp, something dangerous. I can’t read it, but I feel the tension rise in the room like a tangible thing, thick and suffocating. I can’t breathe. I can’t move. I don’t know what to do. I feel like I’ve been caught in the act of something unholy, and I want to scream, to explain, but nothing comes out. Caracalla doesn’t even flinch. He doesn’t look at Geta, doesn’t break the tension. He only gazes at me, his face unreadable. He doesn’t seem angry. He stays still. Like a predator.

I can’t stop looking at Geta, his eyes fixed on me, and the room feels smaller and smaller as I try to make sense of what just happened, of what I’ve just allowed to happen. His gaze catching mine, sharp and calculating, his lips curving into a small, almost imperceptible smirk.

“Brother, we’re going to be late.” Geta says, his voice carrying a hint of authority.

His deep brown eyes glance over to Caracalla, but then they drop to me, lingering there. My chest tightens, and I suddenly feel exposed, even though my body is covered by the thick woolen blankets. His gaze doesn’t waver, and I feel an uncomfortable heat crawl up my neck. I want to look away, but his eyes stay fixed, like a hawk’s on its prey.

“You have to let her rest,” Geta continues, his voice softer, more persuasive now, but there’s a certain edge to it. “We need her full of energy for tonight.”

His smirk widens, just a touch, and I feel a sick knot twist in my stomach. His gaze doesn’t leave my chest, and the heaviness in the room grows unbearable. It’s as though I can feel the weight of his thoughts pressing against my skin, making me want to shrink back.

Caracalla’s eyes flick toward me for a moment, then back to his brother, his brow furrowing slightly as if in thought.

Geta steps closer to the bed, his expression shifting, all smooth charm again.

“You know we expect you to serve us tonight, sick or not.” The words slide from his lips like poison, casual but cold. They hang in the air between us, biting into the stillness.

I want to speak, to say anything, to tell them I can’t, that I’m not well, but the words don’t come. My throat is tight, the fear of defiance swirling in my stomach.

Caracalla doesn’t say anything, just turns toward the door. Geta follows, but not before casting one last glance at me. His eyes trail slowly down, and I feel his gaze again, like fingers running over my skin, until the door finally swings shut behind them. The second the sound of their footsteps fades away, the silence envelops me, and my breath comes in quick, shallow gasps. My chest feels tight, my heart pounding, and I can barely catch my breath.

I punch the pillow, the soft fabric offering no relief to the rage building inside me. It’s a weak, futile gesture, but I don’t know what else to do. The tears well up before I can stop them. I swallow hard, fighting them back. I want to scream, but I don’t. Instead, I bury my face into the pillow, pressing my hands against the fabric, trying to drown out everything.

The suffocating weight of their words presses against my chest. Sick or not. Serve them tonight.

I don’t know how much longer I can bear this.

What will they do with me to me?

Could I escape them?

Gradually, an idea dawns on me.

- - -

Author notes:

I see people saying Caracalla he’s short, but technically for Ancient Rome, if we keep Fred Hechinger’s height, Caracalla is average while Geta is really tall 😊

Anyway, interesting things will happen in the next part… What do you think our ginger freaks are up to?

So, in this part, I wanted to expand a little on the servant's life and reader's past. I'm trying to be evasive, but some things are important to give consistency to a story.

I will try to write the next part quickly, but it's taking me some time. I make my living as a French novelist, so writing is already my main focus during the day, which leads me to write this fanfiction at night, when my brain is already tired haha. So, please, be a little patient, I'm not abandoning you for the sequel. Keep on supporting me, it's really motivating! And thank you sooooo much for the comments and reblogs, you're all so lovely ❤️

The beheaded thing? Sorry, I had to mention that possibility for you know why + it’s my French brain that stayed in French mode for History lol

My AO3: BetrayedWriter

⚔️ Taglist: @duckyhowls (@babey-fruit-bat, @punk-in-docs, @t6gse370, @angelcloudxxsblog and @miragens-para-uma-vitoria, tell me here or in DM if you want to be added for part 4)

[eebeewrites]

DILF Mafia! Elf BF x Nanny! Chubby Reader Part 4

Part 1 -Part 2- Part 3- Other Stories in This Universe

Synopsis: Ronan and Finn disagree on strategies for laundering more money faster, while the twins witness parts of their argument. You eagerly await for the children to go to bed so you can finish what you and Ronan started in the forest.

WC: 4.3k

Ronan, Finn, and their cousin Cedric all sat on the patio, the table covered with manilla folders; not where most meetings regarding money laundering would take place, but it was a nice day today.

The brothers watched as Cedric looked at his laptop, then at one of the open folders, then back to his laptop. Even if they were all on the same team, the way Cedric didn’t hesitate to call either of them out for poor decision-making always made meetings a bit tense.

He let out a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Okay. There’s good news and there’s bad news.”

“Well, start with the good,” said Finn.

“Profits are up, thanks to your little stunt a few weeks ago. However, if you want to actually see any of those profits, you’re going to need to give me another way to clean that money.”

“That’s why we have the casino though, you can just…do it all through there, right?” Said Finn, Ronan staying quiet.

“I could. But a sudden increase of one billion in monthly revenue is going to raise some eyebrows. So, how do you two plan to avoid that?”

Ronan spoke up, “there are some new expenses that can help minimize that.”

“Right, how much are you paying the new nanny?”

“A million a month.”

“Right, okay,” he sighed, sounding almost exasperated. “That’s insane, but it’ll work. That’s still not nearly enough though.”

“There have been some new…opportunities, I’ve been thinking of investing in,” Finn said, tapping his fingers along the table. “There’s rumors they’re putting parcels of land around Magister’s Hill up for auction.”

Magister’s Hill; the collection of noble estates their family lived in for centuries, driven out of eighty years ago when common citizens revolted against the nobility. Most families were wiped out entirely, their fortunes decimated alongside them.

Most, but not all.

Ronan’s eyes widened; “Are you serious?”

Finn nodded, “figure we buy it, pay our own construction company to set something up there to handle the rest of the money that needs moving. Not a business at first. Something good, like I don’t know, open a school or some shit. My reputation as a successful businessman turned philanthropist persists, and we have room for more fronts. That, and it's a poetic form of vengeance.”

Ronan had no desire to have anything tied to their old lives associated with him. Running a criminal empire somehow felt more ethical than being a nobleman; at least he worked for his money now, even if its source was questionable. “I don’t know, Finn. That might be…might be too much. If somehow, someone somehow figured out your old identity, and that you’re the one buying that land, that-”

“There’s more humans in this country than ever before. Humans forget, their memories are shorter than their lifespans. The revolution was eighty years ago; if someone suspected me, they would’ve found out by now.”

“Who’s to say they haven’t, what if this is some sort of bait? I mean, there’s plenty of people who were there, who are still alive, they know our faces-”

“That’s why I don’t have the same face.” Finn was right. He had undergone so many magical cosmetic surgeries, he barely resembled his former self; a safety measure Ronan couldn’t bring himself to do. “Public record states we both burnt to a crisp when they bombed the estate eighty years ago. We aren’t the same people. That’s why you run things here, and I run things out there, and it works.”

“Just because I’m not on television or meeting with influential people doesn’t mean no one sees my face.”

“Come on Ronan, when was the last time you left the complex? It’s not like you’re out grocery shopping, or taking the kids to school. Point is, they don’t see our faces together, and I’ve never been connected to any sort of crime, nor have you. My books, thanks to you,” he said as he gestured towards Cedric, “are clean as could be. I’m a model citizen.”

“Still, what about Callon? He’s in college, he sees probably hundreds of people per day, and then he’s out on jobs!”

Finn rolled his eyes, “seriously? You want to have this argument again?”

“It’s not an argument, it’s a valid concern! Who knows, someone from his school could see him on a job, then what?”

“First of all, have you seen him at school? He dresses like a damn daisy, he’s in the marching band for fucks sake! He’s pathetic, it’s the perfect cover. Second, I’m insulted you’d imply he’s dumb enough to be seen. Like it or not, Alice was a damn good asset, and someone needs to take her place.”

Ronan crossed his arms. The mention of his ex-wife, and their go-to assassin, made him uneasy. “I don’t disagree, but I don’t think it should be him.”

“Why not? There’s no reason it shouldn’t be him. He’s fast, he’s a good shot, he’s a smooth-talker-”

“He’s your son!”

“Even better! We know he’s loyal! We know he’s not going to run off to screw some-”

“You shut your-”

“Gentlemen, I believe we’re getting very off topic,” Cedric said, stepping in before their feud could further escalate. “Although, if you want to use billable hours to sort out your differences, then be my guest. But I remind you time is money.”

The two sighed, Ronan still unconvinced. “I don’t know, I mean, I know we need to move more faster, but…” he couldn’t explain the feeling of despair, the pit in his stomach. “I just don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“Are you serious? Buying the land alone would probably cover everything for the books.”

Cedric shrugged, “he’s right. I agree that there’s a risk, but there’s risk in everything we do. It’s just the nature of the game. But if you want to keep your distance, I can’t blame you. It’s your call, boss.”

Ronan paused, thinking it over, the final decision on his shoulders. Logically, it made sense. It’d be a quick way to grow their operation even further, and launder their excess of money through their construction business and other ventures as they built out the land. On paper, it was a fantastic idea.

Yet something about trying to rebuild on the land where their mother had died, where she was murdered because of their family’s excessive wealth and greed, filled him with dread. Every night, he’d tell himself he was better than his ancestors, better than his father even; he paid everyone who worked under him handsomely, believing he didn’t have to lead through fear. Everyone could afford to live comfortably, to send their children to college, to take vacations and live in good health. Yet such generosity was paid for by suffering.

Ronan knew he wasn’t the only drug lord, and he knew most weren’t as generous with sharing their wealth. He’d tell himself if it weren’t him, it’d be someone else; someone far less benevolent than him. The world would always be filled with addictive substances and the misery that followed in their wake; at least he wasn’t making things worse by treating his people poorly.

He sighed, “no. It’s a bad idea. Our hands on that land is a bad idea, I just know it. Now, if you’ll excuse me,” he got up from the table.

“Come on, Ronan, you can’t be serious!” Finn called out. “Use your head!”

“My decision is final,” he said as he walked away, not looking back at either of them. “Cedric, find another way. Anything will do. Just not that.”

He grabbed the box of cigarettes from his pocket, and walked outside.

——

“He looks angry,” Amara said, watching her relatives walked out of the house. She didn’t seem startled or scared by their shouting; neither of them did, Adriel not even looking out the window, finding a Lego set far more entertaining than whatever disagreement was going on outside.

You recognized Finn, but the man next to him you had only seen in passing a few times. You watched as they walked further down the driveway, stopping by Finn’s car to continue talking. “Amara, who is that?”

“That’s Cedric. He’s nice. He helps us with homework sometimes.”

You leaned closer to the windowsill, trying to hear more of their conversation. Their words were muffled by the glass, but neither lowered their voices.

“He’s a Goddamn idiot, everyday I wonder why father left him in charge, he’s too emotional, too superstitious.”

“I’m sure he has his reasons, he hasn’t-”

“Don’t defend his stupid decisions just because he signs your checks. You know it, say it. It’s a stupid opportunity to let slip.”

He shrugged, “it is. But my job is to advise. Not tell.”

Finn opened the car door. “I don’t care what he says. I’m putting a bid on that land. I’ve got the money.”

“I wouldn’t recommend that. If he finds out-”

“He’s not gonna find out, I’m not stupid enough to do it in my own name. Besides, it’s not just about the money.” He sighed, his voice now low enough for his words to become inaudible.

“I guess he calmed down,” Amara remarked. “Well, I’m bored.”

You laughed, “you’re bored because he’s not mad?”

“Yeah. It’s funny watching his face get all red, he looks like a tomato. But now he just looks normal, and that’s no fun.”

You looked over at the clock; it was just about time for them to eat dinner, then get them ready for bed. With other live-in jobs you had, you only sat with the family occasionally or on special occasions, usually eating in your own room. Yet Ronan had always invited you to sit and eat with them; certainly an uncommon practice, but you found yourself enjoying it more than you had expected. Sometimes it was rather eventful, particularly on nights when he had his late night meetings, his closest family members all eating together beforehand leading to rather interesting conversations. Nights like tonight however were much quieter, the table only consisting of you, Ronan, and the twins.

“What were you and Uncle Finn arguing about?” Asked Adriel. He didn’t seem nervous or uneasy asking the question; only curious.

“Oh, I’m sorry you guys heard that,” he said, back in his usual business attire after your time in the forest.

Amara spoke up, “we heard him call you a goddamn-”

You quickly interrupted her, “I’m not sure that’s something your father wants to discuss at the dinner table.”

“No, no it’s alright,” he sighed, seeming disappointed but showing no signs of anger. “We just uh, we just had a disagreement. That’s all.”

“About what?” Asked Adriel.

“Just some work stuff. It’s really boring, trust me,” he smiled, “no need to worry about it. Besides, I’m much more interested in what you all got up to today.”

The two of them happily recounted the events of the day; what they learned with their tutor, the games they played outside, how the leaves were starting to change color, all of the highlights of their day. Whenever he was around his children, Ronan’s expression softened, a warm smile on his face as they spoke. They made him happier than money ever could.

You got them ready for bed after dinner, and thankfully they didn’t take too long to get to sleep. You headed back to your room, looking over yourself in the mirror. You decided to take a quick shower given what was to come.

You looked over at yourself in the mirror. You didn’t have much in regards to sexy underwear or lingerie; your job kept you on your feet, and you learned early on to prioritize comfort over aesthetics. You opted to wear the same type of clothing you always did, not wanting to be too forward.

You walked over to his bedroom door. The day had given you plenty of time to reconsider, yet you felt sure of yourself. After all, this would probably be much more enjoyable than awkwardly walking past each other in the hallway.

You knocked, and he opened the door quickly, still wearing the same suit he had at dinner. “Hey,” he smiled.

“Hey. Can I come in?”

He opened the door wider, “yeah, yeah, of course.”

You hadn’t ever seen his bedroom before. It was larger than most rooms in the house, far too much space for one man. The bed sat in the middle of the room underneath a chandelier, with tall windows leading out to the balcony. Every time you thought you had gotten used to the grandeur of the house, something else mystified you.

Nerves didn’t settle in until he shut the door behind you. “I uh, I haven’t done anything like this in awhile, to be honest,” you stammered.

He approached, “do you still want to?”

“Of course, I just…” you trailed off. “I guess I don’t know where to start,” you said with a nervous laugh.

He took another step, gently holding your face. “Well, we could always pick up where we left off.” He leaned in and kissed you, moving slowly as you wrapped your arms around his neck. It started soft, innocent even, the way both of you slightly hesitated to touch the other further. He deepened the kiss, holding you closer to him before you felt his tongue move against yours.

His hands trailed down once more, feeling the curves of your body. He broke away, pulling your shirt off of you. You undid the buttons on his vest, your movements first seductive and slow. He started kissing your neck, the sensation catching you off guard. You moved faster, the feeling of him lightly nipping at your neck making you want more. He pulled away his vest, and you quickly undid his shirt, the tattoos across his arms and chest in full display as the shirt fell to the floor.

You stopped to study his chest. Perhaps he wasn’t the one doing the dirty work, but he was undeniably fit, his muscles well-defined. His chest was painted with all sorts of flowers, the type of flora common within the gardens planted above graves in Elvish cemeteries. Between the flowers were leaves and vines, and at the center of his chest was a large trade ship covered with calla lilies, a few words in Elvish written underneath it.

He smiled, amused by your curiosity. “It seems you like what you see,” he teased.

“I-I mean…yeah, but…” you trailed your fingers across one of the vines. “I’ve just never seen someone with this many tattoos before.”

“I’m sure you’ll see all of them before the night is over,” he said as he reached towards your back, unclipping your bra and letting it fall to the floor. He pulled you in for another kiss, his hard cock pressed against you as he before leading you over to the bed. As you fell back on the mattress, he moved on top of you, eager to experience more of you. To your surprise, the first thing he did once on the bed was lick one of your nipples, as if desperate to taste you as soon as possible. He would play with one with his mouth, and the other with his hand, switching as the minutes passed. Your breathing got quicker; not quite moaning, but certainly close.

He moved away, sitting up and pulling off your pants and underwear. It was clear he didn’t care about what clothes you were wearing. He looked over your pussy, already starting to get wet. You spread your legs just a little further, and he quickly started to lap at your pussy, dragging his tongue along your cunt. Feeling his warm tongue along your clit drew a moan from your lips. He pulled away, only to kiss your inner thighs, before going right back to eating you out. You assumed a man in his profession would be rougher, yet never before had someone been so gentle with you, his movements slow, his eyes looking up at you with admiration. It felt strangely intimate for what should be little more than a steamy hook-up with your boss; right?

He gently sucked on your clit, slowly pushing a finger inside you. He said little, as if all his attention was focused on pleasing you. He moved faster, your body ready for more before he slipped another finger inside. It became clear, he wasn’t taking off any more clothing until you had cum.

He pulled his fingers out of you, moving beside before pushing them back inside even deeper, curling them upward. You felt yourself getting close, the warm sensation between your legs growing stronger.

“That’s it,” you felt his warm breath on your ear, his voice a soft whisper as he moved. “Relax.”

You followed his instructions, letting out another heavy breath as you felt yourself getting tighter around his fingers. Never before had a man made you feel this way from just his fingers alone. ‘He does have hundreds of years of experience, I guess,’ you thought. You bit your lip, gripping the bed sheets as you felt him reach your g-spot over and over. It didn’t take much longer after that for you to cum all over his fingers, instinctively covering your mouth to stifle your moans.

He pulled out, licking your juices from his fingers. The orgasm had left you wanting more, eager to see, to feel his hard cock. Still riding the high, you moved your hand over his belt, slowly starting to undo it as you caught your breath.

He smiled, putting his hand over yours. “There’s no need to rush, catch your breath.” “But I…I want to.” As soon as you said it, you knew how slutty you sounded. You wanted to please him the same way he had you, your confidence skyrocketing after climaxing.

“You want to what? Take your time.”

‘God damn it he’s good.’

“I want to see it,” you said, moving your hand towards the belt buckle once more. “I want to return the favor.”

This time, he didn’t stop you, moving his hand to the back of your head as you undid his belt, pulling down the zipper on his slacks before taking out his hard cock, the tip glistening with precum. It was longer than you initially thought it would be after grinding against him. You slowly lowered your head down, licking the tip.

He pet your head as you swirled your tongue along the tip of his cock, slowly bobbing your head back and forth as you got every inch of the shaft wet. You barely managed to fit all of it in your mouth, the tip reaching the back of your throat. Yet the sound of his moaning made you want to keep going. He didn’t hold back, not afraid to let you hear how much you pleased him as you moved your head back and forth.

“You feel so good,” he moaned under his breath. “Fuck, I…” he tilted his head back, indulging himself in the warmth of your mouth. “Gods, you feel so fucking good.”

You couldn’t wait much longer, eager to feel him inside you. You pulled off of his cock, stroking it in your hand as you looked back at him. You smiled, gaining the upper hand, as you looked up at him, his face flushed with pleasure. “I can make you feel better,” you said as you slowly touched him.

“No, no,” he grinned. “You had your turn. Now it’s my turn to make you feel good.” He sat up, moving on top of you. You spread your legs once more, feeling his cock brush against your cunt. He looked down at you, his face hovering over yours. “Ready?”

His eye contact was almost intense, but that made you want it even more. You nodded, and he leaned down to kiss you, feeling him slowly push his cock inside as your lips collided. He pulled away, looking down at you as he started to move. “Fuck, you’re tight,” he remarked. He kept a slow pace, letting you feel every inch each time he moved.

You grinned, the feeling of him deep inside you intoxicating. “Maybe you’re just big.”

“You flatter me,” he sat up, moving faster as you wrapped your legs around his waist, feeling him deeper. He moved to touch your clit while he fucked you, sending a shiver down your spine. “Sensitive now, are we? Does having your clit touched feel better while I’m inside you?”

“Y-Yes!” You cried out.

He thrusted even faster, still playing with your clit. “You’re already close again, I can feel it.”

He was right, and you couldn’t help but whimper and nod as he fucked you, drunk on his cock.

“Go on, cum again. Cum on my cock,” he said under his breath, maintaining his pace.

You weren’t a virgin, but he was unlike any other lover you had before. Dominant, yet not forceful. Sexy, but sweet and comforting. The sound of his voice made you want to please him, tightening against his cock to cum yet again, letting out another loud moan.

“Good girl,” he cooed, slowing down as you came all over him. “You are so sweet,” he whispered. He pulled out, laying down beside you once more, pulling you in for a kiss . He could feel your shaky breaths as he stroked his cock. He pulled away, “how privileged I am to see a woman like you everyday,” he said as he caressed your face.

You weren’t even sure how to respond, your mind in a haze. “I…thank you.”

He let out a quiet laugh. “No, thank you. Here, ride me,” his command was gentle, and you eagerly moved on top of him, sliding down his cock with ease. He grabbed your hips, bouncing you up and down on his cock as he moved in and out of you. You could feel him hit your g-spot from here, taking every inch as you slammed down onto him. The look of your breasts, your tummy, your thighs, all of them bouncing in reaction to his thrusts, enamored him. He fucked into you even harder, the lustful look on your face something he hadn’t seen in years, both of you equally passionate about getting the other off.

He gripped your hips even tighter, feeling himself getting close. “I…I’m gonna cum, fuck!” Both of you had been so eager for the night’s activities, you hadn’t even thought about protection; that didn’t seem to stop him, though.

“Cum in me, please,” you blurted out. You weren’t thinking, your mind only focused on pleasure.

He let out another loud moan as he held you down on his cock, cumming deep inside you. You felt his warm cum slowly drip out of you, back down onto his cock. As you caught your breath for the last time, your mind started to return.

‘Shit.’

“Oh, fuck, I’m so sorry,” he said as he leaned back. “I wasn’t thinking, I just-”

“It’s fine. We’ll deal with it in the morning,” you said with a gentle smile. If he could afford boxes of spells and walls of guns, he could buy you a morning after spell.

“Yeah, we’ll do that. I…I had a lot of-”

His train of thought was interrupted by the sound of a sudden banging on the door. “RONAN!” Called out a woman's voice, “ANSWER YOUR GODDAMN PHONE, JACKASS!”

“Oh shit,” he mumbled. You got off of him, and he quickly got up, starting to get dressed as he spoke through the door, “I was sleeping, what’s the problem, what’s going on?”

“Ellarian’s grandson set off a trap on a job.”

“What?! Wait, wait, wait,” he started to panic. “What job?! No one should be out tonight, we’re supposed to be laying low right now!”

“I don’t fucking know! But the old lady won’t let me touch him!”

“Then…” he stammered over his words, as if trying to talk his way to an answer. “I don’t know, then don’t touch him!”

“If I don’t touch him, he’s going to die! Can you please convince her to let me do my fucking job so we don’t have another body in the lake?!”

“Okay, just, just give me a second!”

You recognized the voice; it was Serena, their…medic? Doctor? You weren’t entirely sure. You had only seen her once, your first time in the house when you eavesdropped on her conversation with Callon regarding gunshot wounds. You weren’t sure what to do, so you started getting dressed.

Ronan turned to face you, “I…Fuck, I’m sorry, I’ll make it up to you, I promise,” he said in a quiet voice.

“It’s fine,” you kept a surprisingly level head, disappointed but not entirely surprised.

“Make sure the kids are still asleep, then…then I don’t know,” he said, opening the door and walking out. You followed behind him before heading to each of the children’s bedrooms. You could feel Serena’s eyes glaring at you for just a moment before they rushed downstairs.

You poked your head inside each room, and through some miracle of the Gods, both were still fast asleep. With no children to comfort, you weren’t sure what to do. So, you followed the two of them to the basement.

It didn’t take you long to catch up to them. Ronan and Serena turned to face you, standing in front of the safe door. “Are they alright?” Ronan asked.

“They’re asleep, yeah,” you nodded.

Serena furrowed her brow, looking back at Ronan as you took another step forward. “No, no, absolutely not, we do not need more cooks in this fuckass kitchen,” she spat.

Ronan didn’t hesitate, “it’s fine, she can stay, just show me what happened.”

Reluctantly, she listened to Ronan, leading him into the safe and heading down the hallway, ending her protest. You heard the sound of a man crying out, his pleas echoing through the hallway.

‘I’m gonna regret this, aren’t I?’

You walked into the safe, curious to figure out just what the hell was going on.

lorelorelorelore plotplotplotplot yippee!!!! we had smut, and we got lore. what a day. excited to get the main plot started! theres. theres gonna be a lot. yippee!

thank you for reading!

RONAN TAGLIST: @damnitimasimp @sketchlove @madam8 @jar0fhoney @hikaakox @gurlie919 @caotictimmy

[windmaedchen-oceanhorn]

Collab with Lyra Arpa. She is playing the harp, while I did the art. <3

Thank you, AFK Journey, for a wonderful year so far. I am very much looking forward to the next!

Let's go, Magisters!

[loquaciousquark]

I’ve finally caught up with your DATV streams and I am absolutely delighted to see you have been drawn into Lucanis’ romance arc. You have always been my favorite fandom author, and your fics are consistently on point with characterization and lore accuracy, so I was really hoping you would choose Lucanis. I am eagerly awaiting your future fics with your lovely Rook and their off-screen adventures.

Also: with finally being able to explore Tevinter (somewhat), it had me returning to your Magister Hawke AU and…It remains my favorite of all time. Just wanted to let you know, haha. Thank you for sharing your creative endeavors with the internet! They are keenly treasured.

Yay, I'm so glad! (And again, so very sorry for how long this took!) I'm still laughing that I'm so invested in Lucanis now for how much I really didn't like him on introduction, ahaha. I'm also super invested in his relationship with my Rook, which I didn't expect! Her character concept was something bouncy and bright to play off her Mourn Watch background, and while I liked that well enough, the deeper into the relationship with Lucanis I got, the more fun it became to really lean into that for the contrast. In a lot of ways it reminds me of Hawke & Fenris, though Hawke carries a lot more grief with her (and in her humor) than Rook does.

I do need to find a list of some prompts or something for Rookanis, though! My favorite space to play in for games like this is the post-relationship-establishment-but-before-final-battle era, and they don't...exactly have much time there, ahaha. (I also need to figure out exactly what the course of their relationship is; I don't think that kiss in the end is actually their first one, but I'm not sure! And I don't know where it would actually be, if that's the case.) But there have to be some ideas out there somewhere for me to poach!

(The first fic is away at beta, on that subject—@jadesabre301 will be polishing it up soon!)

Ahh, thank you so much for the kind note on the fic! I'm still really proud of that one, especially the Fenris work, and I'm so glad you're still enjoying it. I was really pleased that VG's Minrathous felt so close to how I'd imagined it (and so close to Kirkwall), and it was really satisfying to see some of the things I'd guessed right! (0 for 2 on magical neon and floating buildings, though. Definitely missed those!)

Thank you so much! <3 <3

[bleeding-star-heart]

Post Veilguard, the entirety of Thedas has a huge reckoning on its hands re: mages

After Solas was defeated, several things are quickly going to become public knowledge: 1) That Solas, an elven deity created the Veil in order to quarantine the Blight. 2) That the elven deities-who were in fact real the whole time-created said Blight by killing the Titans, indirectly screwing over the dwarves in the process. 3) That the elven deities also manipulated the Tevinter empire of old by what is essentially dragon-assisted (metaphorical) Groucho glasses.

4) Finally, that the Tevinter magisters did not in fact release all the Blight onto the world, but merely a tiny amount of it. All these things, when put together, pretty much removes all the blame from the famous Magisters Sidereal. Yes, they did walk into the Fade and bring the Blight into the world. But they aren't responsible for tainting the Golden City (which was likely just Arlathan anyway), their "hubris" didn't create the Blight, and they didn't even bring all of it into Thedas anyway. In other words, everything the Chant of Light claimed about them is total bunk. And thanks to Solas, Elgarnan, and Rook and co., that is public knowledge. And since a huge portion of the Chantry's justification for their treatment of mages is tied up with the Magisters Sidereal... The possibility of a whole new mage rights revolution has opened up. Especially if you take into account the Inquisitor's letters detailing how the Orlesian aristocrats apparently had no problem siding with Venatori. (A piece of bad writing if ever there was one IMO, but that's neither here nor there.) Many previously accepted pro-Templar, anti-mage rights arguments are no longer going to hold water in the face of this new information. After all, you can't indirectly blame all mages for the Blight if the Tevinter magisters are barely responsible for it in the first place. And the threat of demonic possession is a harder sell when the very famous Lucanis is walking around with free will intact. Consequently, a lot of people are going to lose faith in the Chantry and Andrastianism as a whole. Others will fanatically cling to the Chant, denying the truth Rook and co. publicly exposed and choosing instead to paint the Veilguard as heretical liars. These two factions will inevitably oppose each other, and it would be damn near impossible for any sort of reconciliation or "reaching across the aisle". Thus making Anders and the Mage-Templar conflict of Inquisition are likely small potatoes compared to what's about to unfold. Of course, one problem is, we don't know how the Mage-Templar conflict was "canonically" resolved. (the default Inquisitor is apparently Lavellan, but that's all Bioware cared to tell us). The factions the Inquisitor sided with, the ruler they chose for Orlais, the identity of Divine Victoria...all that is up in the air. Therefore, the Chantry's reaction could be just about anything. See, if a softened Leliana became Divine Victoria, and the Inquisitor supported the mages, there's hope that all these changes might be more peaceful. Leliana's radical reforms would likely have already paved the way for a peaceful transition to full mage rights. But if Vivienne is Divine, or the Inquisition was pro-Templar, then southern Thedas is fucked. It is violent revolution o'clock. (And not just because of the Blight).

[bunnybird-afk]

Questions about your Magister (now with +5 more questions🤣):

1. So what's his connection to the Maulers/ Dusk Lord anyway?

2. Does he have a love interest?

3. Is he a Mauler..?

4. If so what abilities or powers does he have?

5. Also like I'm 89% sure it's cannon, but what's his connection to Dura?

6. Does he have a specific magic he uses?

7. Who are his parents?

8. Where did he come from?

9. What's his opinion on holding the title "Merlin"?

10. What's personality?

11. Is he rich...?

12. What's his worst fear?

13. Does he hate any in-game characters?

14. Does he have hobbies?

15. What type of people does he get along with?

Thank you so much for this ask! I am so excited to ramble on about Sena! I have been cooking up his lore for almost a month now but haven't been able to put it together coherently so this really helps!

Warning: Long Post

Some brief background:

Sena is a former 'god' of Esperia, though he technically hasn't held an official place in the pantheon since long before the Divine War, having asked for his name to be struck from the records for certain reasons. While he retained much of his original power at first, his divine core was shattered by Ygdris during the Immortal War, leading to Sena being absorbed into the leylines to rest and heal until the war was over. Afterwards, he awakens with no memories, helps Esperia with its troubles and then returns to the leylines when his life force is depleted. This cycle repeats itself a total of three times so far, with the most recent being the in-game canon.

1) Sena's connection to the Dusk Lord/the Maulers?

While most Esperian's might consider it blasphemous, the Age of the Gods wasn't nearly as prosperous or perfect as one might think. Being a fledgling god who didn't yet have his own title, Sena was often looked down upon by some of the less benevolent deities in Esperia's pantheon (most of whom have been long forgotten).

The Dusk Lord was one of the few gods who viewed Sena as what he was at the time, a child in need of guidance. Thus the Dusk Lord took him under his wing, taught him about Esperia and what it meant to be a god. Even taught him how to fight should the need arise.

Through the Dusk Lord, Sena met the Maulers. The first mortals that Sena ever encountered. The first people Sena ever met. The Dusk Lord taught Sena about his people and about their cultures, telling the godling that his wish was for his people to be strong. To be tenacious so that they could handle the harsh realities of the world even without his guidance.

While the Dusk Lord tried to teach Sena how to be a god, Sena immersed himself in the culture and community around him and instead learnt something far more important. How to be a person.

2) Sena's love interest(s)?

While Sena has had partners over the eons, there where very few instances he could point to that he'd consider love. The first of these instances was a mage by the name of Merlin, the first mage to ever exist in Esperia. Merlin was gentle and compassionate and selfless, and Sena found himself inexplicably drawn to them. They were perfect. But they were mortal... After they passed, Sena took up the title of 'Merlin' as a way to remember them and to continue their mission of protecting and helping Esperia.

During the Immortal War, Sena fought side-by-side with the Celestials, wanting to safeguard Esperia's people from the threat of the Hypogeans. During this time, Sena grew close to Dionel, and while the two may have shared a few tender moments and had occasionally found comfort in each other's arms, they soon realized that their feelings for each other were more platonic than romantic. To this day, Sena considers Dionel his closest friend, and it would seem as though the feeling is mutual.

After losing his memories the second time, Sena wakes up near Holistone and soon meets Hogan who was still a young recruit in the Lightbearer army. Having no memory of his own past and believing himself a mortal, Sena ends up working closely with Hogan and eventually feelings start to bloom between the two (despite a rocky start). Over the next decade or so, Sena and Hogan grow closer and closer, and though they make their affections for each other obvious, the word 'love' remains unspoken. Things between the two 'end' when Hogan gets called to duty, asked to serve the Lightbearer Empire in some scuffles that had broken out with the Maulers near the border to the Ashen Wastes. Hogan asks Sena to come with him, using the excuse that they could use the help of a mage like him. Sena asks Hogan to stay, knowing that he might not make it back alive. They both decline out of a sense of duty, though those feelings continue to linger. To the point where Sena returns to Holistone after the war to wait for Hogan having heard news of his return, though Sena is resting in the leylines again before they can be reunited. (Though, Sena has accidentally acquired an adopted son during his time back at Holistone, one that would soon go on to cause Hogan no shortage of trouble).

3) Is Sena a Mauler?

Not in the traditional sense. Sena's divine form was an almagamation of the different factions, though he doesn't inherently belong to any given one. During his time wandering Esperia, he tends to try to fit in with the people around him, hence him taking on more Mauler like characteristics when in the Ashen Wastes and more Wilder characterstics when in the Dark Forest. Though considering the Dusk Lords words and Sena's own feelings about the Ashen Wastes, in his heart Sena is more of a Mauler than he is any other faction.

4) Sena's Abilities/Powers?

While Sena has the standard Merlin abilities we see in game, he also has a few innate abilities that stuck around from when he was still a god. This includes Sena coming across as very amicable and persuasive, and on rare occasions being able to tap into his Divine Authority. Overall, Sena also exudes an air of comfort, making others around him feel at ease even in the toughest of times.

5) Sena's connection with Dura?

Like the Dusk Lord, Dura was on of the few gods who didn't completely disregard Sena's existence. Though while the Dusk Lord viewed Sena's naivety as something he needed time and help growing out of, Dura viewed it as a reason why Sena needed to be protected and nurtured. In a sense she was another one of Sena's mentors growing up. While the Dusk Lord taught him to be strong, resilient and tenacious, Dura had taught him to be gentle, caring and compassionate. And unlike most of the other gods, Dura seemed to genuinely love her people, wanting to protect them and nurture them, ensuring that they thrived and prospered. And at the end of the day, Sena wanted to help her fulfill that desire though it would be centuries until he could actually be of any assistance to her.

6) Sena's Magic?

Sena's magic is derived directly from the leylines themselves, allowing him to use magic in its purest form, though without his divinity this tends to take an immense toll on him should he overexert himself. Apart from that, Sena has a form of charmspeak that allows him to compell the truth from others, and often persuade them into doing certain things, though he often forgets this ability in his amnesia only to remember it later, though even then he uses it sparingly, not liking the feeling of influencing others free will.

7/8) Who are his Parents/Where did he come from?

Being a former god, Sena doesn't really have parents. Like most gods, he simply awoke one day in the Realm of the Gods, born of a concept that had become prominent enough to warrant having its own deity. Though unlike most gods, Sena had no clue what he was the god of at first, not feeling any real affinity for anything present in the Realm of the Gods.

So in that sense, Sena didn't really have parents. In fact he didn't really understand the concept until almost a millenium later, watching as Mauler father excitedly scooped his cub into a hug after their first steps. Sen had found it heartwarming though still unrelatable.

Though if Sena were to think about it now (once he has his memories back atleast), if anyone had been a father to him, it would have been the Dusk Lord. And well, Dura had always called him her child, even if she hadn't really meant it in the familial sense (though Sena found himself secretly hoping that she did).

9) Sena's opinion on being Merlin?

While the title had started as a way for him to honour somone he cared for, it's since then grown to represent so much more to him. To Sena, being Merlin means shouldering the responsibility for Esperia's well-being. Not just dealing with big threats, but also caring for the Esperian people on a personal level. It represents the wishes of all those who loved him, and now his own wishes too. Afterall, it's his responsibility as Esperia's last living god.

10) Sena's personality?

Growing up Sena had been well-meaning and quiet sharp, though it was usually hidden behind his jovial demeanor. Even back then, however, Sena had a touch of recklessness and anarchy to him that caused Dura no shortage of concern (and the Dusk Lord no shortage of amusement). And though he eventually matured and grew more calm and measured, his charming personality and slight spark of chaos never quiet left him. And whenever Sena loses his memory, his personality reverts to being somewhere in the middle of those two states of being.

11) Is Sena Rich?

Pretty much, though that's more thanks to Dolly than anything else. After becoming Sena's retainer, she took her duties very seriously, handling just about everything that Sena may need help with (excluding magecraft). That included handling Sena and the Mystical House's finances, as well as updating Sena on any news that may pique his interest. She's also the one responsible for helping Sena to adjust to life in Esperia whenever he returns from the leylines, including making sure he has the correct currency and is dressed for the times (thank you, Dolly, for keeping Sena fashionable).

12) Sena's worst fear?

Losing sight of what it means to be a person. Sena has never cared much for his divinity, but he would cling to every last shred of humanity he has in his soul.

13) Does Sena hate any characters?

Berial and Reinier. Sena hates Berial because of the joy he takes in making mortals suffer. He's needlessly cruel, even by Hypogean standards and seems to genuinely enjoy the harm he causes (unlike Phraesto who Sena finds oddly amicable).

He also strongly dislikes Reinier due to his obsession with perfection. While in itself not abhorrent, the lengths Reinier goes to to achieve his idea of 'perfection' is disturbing to Sena who's seen the way his actions have hurt people. And on a more personal note, the way Reinier desecrates the monuments of the old gods, bastardizing their image and deceiving their followers never fails to have pure rage bubbling up in Sena's chest. Blasphemy doesn't really bother him, but seeing this hypogean spit on the legacy of those he knew and loved just crosses a line for Sena.

14) Sena's Hobbies?

Being Merlin doesn't really give Sena a lot of free time, though when he does get it, he's using it to completely immerse himself in the local culture. Talking to people, helping out around whatever town they're in, eating local delicacies, sampling signature drinks, listening to music, and reading their books and poems. In hindsight, being Merlin probably is the best job for Sena considering that it gives him an excuse to travel.

15) What type of people does Sena get along with?

Sena tends to get along with just about anyone so long as they aren't cruel or closed-minded, though he does have his favourites. Usually those who have the same type of well-meaning chaos and recklessness that he does.

[aicosu]

Hey, just saw your post about Veilguard - do you mind me asking what it is that put you off? Thanks!

I can start by saying I've not played it. I'm not going to at this point. But basically, every cutscene and dialogue option and plot point I've watched. And for those of you that don't remember I was hugely critical of Inquisition despite my love for it. And I downright hated Trespasser. So this shouldnt be shocking.

And its a lot of stuff I dont like. I can make a short list of major things below, obvious spoilers.

Please dont read this if it will make you angry okay? This is a lot of angry ranting.

1. I said this with inquisition and trespassers but veilguard seals my hatred for the decision to center the entire plot of ripping apart the dalish culture and religion. I'm sorry I just don't think this is compelling. It's icky to create an oppressed and marginalized race with parallels to most indigenous cultures in the real world, and basically call them wrong and stupid for clinging to their culture and history. I don't care that validating the Enuvanris existance means also invalidating the maker and the tevinter reiligions too, or even the dwarven: the game centers this narrative on the DALISH. The entire implication that its their fault all along or they sold themselves into a cult and slavery is gross. The game could have easily done this but centered it around the Maker. Andraste as the blight corrupted crazy deity or spirit whatever the fuck. Makes more sense with how much Chantry has been shoved down our throats since origins, and given how much wider spread it is after literal genocides of the dalish, qun, etc it would just mean a lot more to target the oppressors/majority religion directly. And look listen, I'm a pretty hardcore athiest and even anti thiest. I hate all religions, I find stories about dismantling religion compelling but to couch it histories of marginalized people like... its just not great. Not to mention twisting their gods into systematic greedy people or shoving their "bestest god" into a human woman and trying to make her prostheltize at me. I don't like it!

2. I get why old decisions dont matter. The world is too big, sure. I dont mind that at all, actually, even with all the problems, it gives people invested in those choices. Im happy to accept it. But then... make the actual plot less beholden to it. Why bring in cameos at all, then? Fuck man set it 50 or 80 years later. But if you cant cause everyone wants closure in the DA fandom then give us closure. If not personal closure with wardens and hawkes and etc cause its all too variant — lore closure. We arent going to talk about how darkspawn were thinking and talking? Blight was always just a random elvhen weapon? What apparent the tevinter magisters then? What about the architect? What about the idea of darkspawn becoming their own race and culture? What about the old gods themselves they were just always enuvanris? How do magisters actually feel about that? Why did those who worshipped corypheous or the black church follow Elvhen gods, their most oppressed and hated enemy aside from the qunari?

Speaking of, what about all of us who wanted to confront Minrathous and Tevine for the atrocities we've built up about it for 3 games. Slavery? Off screen solved before we get there? Dorian fixed it all? I had a heated debate with Dorian about him saying how slavery wasnt all that bad "They like being slaves!" And so many conversations with Fenris about how horrible it is. Rape and murder and submission? We don't as players get to finally confront that?

How about red lyrium being sentient. How about it being a tool the elvhen then used to murder titans, but not its alive and unstoppable? How can anything be unblighted? Because plot?

What of the calling? What of it really? What of those in The Calling who were unblighted? nothing?

Not even a deep conversation about the murky ethics of liberation/slavery when it comes to the Antivan crows stealing children? I'm to forget that?

How about anything all to do with the Qun? How about that burnt in memory I have of Saarabas immolating himself in service to not just the system of his culture but his belief in his faith. We're writing him off as a terrorist and not as an example of the Qun? Lets be really real; they have been retconning the Qun every game till now them being a fully gender and sexual accepting society.

How about the changes of mages vs templars if and maybe they walk free now? As if that entire conflict wasnt the brewing boiling point for three games?

What about the elvhen rebellion they so rightly started after centuries or murder and racism? Can we stop pretending that rebellion isnt an act of violence and has to be? Can we stop erasing the idea that systemical upheavel can be anything other than radical? Hello? Anders is one the phone asking for you?

How about that ending, the veil isn't even torn? Spirits don't walk the earth as intended. Why not solas' plan? Why not restore order. Why not join or dissuade him as he asked us to in trespasser?

It just all feels washed off, Thedas. I'm allowed to be angry and upset that they spanned all of these topics and asked me to engage with them on a deep ethical and moral grounds only to never mention them again. I dont think making your player base feel stupid for caring is great.

3. On personal levels, Solas has been ooc since trepasser. And frankly, the explanation of his relationship with Mythal is disgusting. Made the first slave and turned from his true nature into a tool of war—and reaffirming his subservance by making it that only Mythal could stop him? How is that not a toxic dynamic, and they fram it as loving and romantic? Imagine them trying that Fenris who can only be talked down by Danerous. Come on. It should have been Lavellan — or it really should have been not at all. Let him. The devs want to destory Thedas and start over? Let solas reset time and recreate the earth and tear is all down and erase most of the history. Do it you cowards. Give me an unrecognizable DA5 where spirits and mages rule and the elvhen thrive and war with each other. Give me slaved humans and a topsy turvy all that changes remains the same reality. Why not if you want to illuminti titan everything anyway.

4. I dont believe in the veilguard, I should have a choice not to. I should have a reason to care about it or my companions or fewl some sort of reason we must all work together aside from "theyre adorable". All the other games you had companion parties in organic and believable ways. Rook is leader cause.... ? What if I dont want to be? At least my Dalish inquisitor fought tooth and nail not to be called a christian messiah. Hawke had FRIENDS. And the warden found those who knew what a blight meant. And many of all of us disagreed. Vivianne got not sympathy from me. Why should Neve? Fenris will leave your party if you waste your time when the Magister comes to town. I dont want to coddle Harding about her stupid chantry. I do not to talk to Lucanis happily about the crows. Maybe I dont want to be friendly all the time. Maybe I hate everything Bellara is doing. Or taash.

5. The writing was on the wall in inquistion hoenestly. What with Iron bull letting me decide is he mass murders his found family or not. But jesus these new companions are like 10 yrs old. I don't know you decide. Your a fucking adult. I cant take a single one of them seriously. Even Sera screamed and yelled at me if I challenged her. Solas and I almost broke up mutiple times arguing about tradition and purpose or that damn Mythal well (again and no wonder he would object to doing anything akin to being emslaved by her, only to submit himself in this game. As if the well mattered at all. As if morrigan matters at all.) I just don't feel as though I'm bonding with anyone, I'm babysitting. Im being told what a great person I am that I can teach everyone elementary school behaviorial learning. I dont want to, I dont even want to be "good".

6. Petty stuff:

I hate the art style both in the UI and the models. I hate it. And the expressions are so poor compared even to Da2.

I hate all the armors. Everyone is bulky. Hate it.

Ugly combat.

Cant control or walk around as my companions and try out other classes.

CC cant change eyes or facial structure much so all rooks heads look the same and kinda... everyone looks like a dwarf. Sorry. Imo, imo, every rook I have seen looks like a dwarf.

Dont like the music.

Dragons are ugly.

Morrigans outfit makes it look like she has 4 titties.

I hate this elvhen "steampunk" tech when so much of their magic was shown to be earthen and mystic. Dumb. No explanation as why it would become this way it just is now.

Blood magic erasure cause the devs are scared of us being cool I guess.

I hate the humor. Every joke doesnt land for me. And there are simply too many.

[adainesjacket]

Dorian & F!Rook (daughter)! Give it to meeeeee (so politely). prompt for them: there is enough hate in this world.

yessss i love them thank you!!! here's a ficlet about how they met :3

dorian & f!rook, 1030 words, mild CW for blood/child endangerment

@dadrunkwriting

Dorian had passed by Magister Kellander's mansion only a few times. He knew the Magister herself - or had at least argued against her in the Magisterium several times - as a cold, severe woman, who was popular with his rivals due to her clinical, economic-focused arguments in favour of slavery. She never grew passionate, she never misspoke in anger. She was unmarried, childless, and a keen gardener. The mansion's verdant camellia garden was one of the hidden beauties of Minrathous.

"It's a very good fertiliser," Dorian said absent-mindedly as he and Maevaris surveyed the grand cellar under the Kellander estate. "For roses and such."

Mae frowned at him in confusion. "What is?"

"Oh, blood."

It dripped down the walls, pooling into thick, viscous puddles on the stone floor. There were runes drawn in it, and nasty little wards too, engineered through archways and various crystal altars. The Templars had moved over a dozen drained bodies to the side of the room and lay them under sheets. Magister Kellander's body was already interred in the civic mortuary.

They searched the cellar together, looking for any remaining evidence that could link the late Kellander to the Venatori, and therefore be useful to the Lucerni and network of spies and renegades they were building up. The investigators had found Kellander guilty of blood magic in the face of overwhelming evidence, but had failed to find the reason behind the slaughter. Whatever ritual she had tried to attempt had either failed or worked so well that the effects were insidious and invisible. Dorian was very much hoping for the former.

"It's some kind of transference," Mae murmured, studying a crystal altar intently. "The same rune was on Kellander's forehead - see, here." She turned Dorian's attention to the largest of the red crystals, now inert.

"That's a triplicate rune," Dorian said. "You're right. Transference of something magical from Kellander, to someone else, via the arcane focus."

Mae sighed. "One of the poor bastards under the sheets, I suppose."

"No, they were checked. And she wouldn't be trying to give her slaves any kind of magical power, surely. It might be that-"

Dorian stopped short. A dark flicker in the corner of his eye brought his hand to his staff, magic simmering at his fingertips and ready to burn. He gestured silently to a stack of crates that lined the edge of the cellar.

"Rats?" Mae mouthed without hope.

Dorian narrowed his eyes and directed a harmless burst of force energy towards the crates. The squeak that emerged was distinctly un-rat-like. An icy fear shot through Dorian's heart. He got to his knees, and with a gentleness he hadn't known he possessed, coaxed out a pale, terrified little girl. She stood shaking in a frilly nightdress that must have once been white, and she wore the third rune, painted in blood, on her forehead.

Dorian swallowed down horror and revulsion and attempted to smile. Whoever the child was, she had clearly seen enough hate and violence for a lifetime. She needed kindness as badly as she needed proper clothes, food, and a bath to wash off all the blood.

"Hello, little one," he said softly. The girl stood in front of them like a spooked halla, ready to bolt. Her eyes were doe-like too, wide and brown and wet. "It's all right." (It was not. Nothing had ever felt less right.)

Mae attempted her own smile. "You must be cold, and hungry, yes? Shall we get you out of here?"

Dorian watched her doe-eyes track the movement of the staves in their hands, and very, very slowly, lay his down on the ground next to him. Maevaris did the same.

The girl's shoulders relaxed infinitesimally.

"My name's Dorian," he said, keeping his voice calm and friendly. "This is my good friend Maevaris. What's your name?"

The girl shook and did not answer, but allowed Dorian to shuck his embroidered coat and oh-so-carefully drape it around her shoulders, and followed them up the stairs and out into the gardens on her spindly little legs. She shielded her eyes against the weak winter sun as they emerged and Dorian felt his heart squeeze, to think that such a young child had so little experience of light. While Maevaris hurried to find some kind of authority to tell them what to do next, Dorian led the girl to a pretty bench under a bower of blooming, fragrant camellias.

She looked even smaller draped in his coat. She didn't make eye contact with him, but he noted how she kept running her fingers over the fine embroidery and the mother-of-pearl buttons with an almost reverent air.

"Pretty, isn't it?" Dorian asked.

The girl startled but rewarded him with a tentative nod and the ghost of a smile.

"I added this part myself," he said, pointing to motif of dark purple flowers that encircled the cuffs. "They're hellebores. Winter flowers. Like camellias," he added, picking up a handful of plump fallen petals and handing them to her.

The girl's ghost of a smile took on a little more substance, and she spoke for the first time, so softly he had to strain to hear her.

"Is that your name?" Dorian asked.

The little girl nodded, and slipped her little hand into his.

When Maevaris returned with a Chantry sister and asked if he had learned anything, Dorian told them the one precious piece of information he had gleaned. Later on he would learn everything about the strange little girl; that she was the daughter of Magister Kellander, that she was illegitimate, and half-elven, and born without magic. That her mother, who was too old to produce more children and too proud to adopt an heir, had sacrificed the entire household in an attempt to transfer even a modicum of magical power to her daughter, and failed.

He would learn everything he needed to, but for now he cleared his throat and stared down the severe Chantry sister who had been saying words like "orphanage" and "penitent".

"Her name is Camille," Dorian told them. He squeezed the little hand that had not left his in some time. "And she's coming home with me."

[datvtranscripts]

The Enemy of My Enemy Pt. 2

Faction Memento

Signs and Portents Masterpost Previous: Varric’s Mirror

Rook goes to the other end of the table and places another piece of decor.

Origin Dependent Dialogue:

Crow [1]

Grey Warden [2]

Lord of Fortune [3]

Mourn Watch [4]

Shadow Dragon [5]

Veil Jumper [6]

1 - Crow Place Antaam Command Pin Rook: The Antaam commander I took this from thought occupying Treviso was the same as owning it. I showed him how wrong he was. Freed a bunch of prisoners that night. Including Varric. That's also the night the Crows kicked me out of Antiva for "carrying out unauthorized operations"

Dialogue options:

I made the right call. Rook: Still can't believe they didn't back me. We're the Crows. Killing targets is what we do! Scene ends.

I suppose it was fair. Rook: It was the right thing to do, but it did bring the Antaam down hard on the Crows. I probably could have made fewer waves. Scene ends.

I was impulsive. Rook: I was so proud of myself… but the Antaam cracked down hard on the Crows after what I did. I have to get better at seeing the big picture. Scene ends.

2 - Grey Warden Place Toy Griffon Rook: Every time I look at this, I can hear that little girl thanking me for saving her village from darkspawn. She said that since the Grey Wardens didn't have griffons anymore, I could have hers. If I hadn't been there, I'd never have met Varric… and never had to deal with the First Warden complaining I ignored orders.

Dialogue options:

I made the right call. Rook: Doesn't matter what the First Warden thinks. There's a little girl alive today because I attacked instead of waiting for reinforcements. Scene ends.

I suppose it was fair. Rook: But if it was worth rushing in to save that village instead of waiting for reinforcements, it was worth dealing with the consequences, too. Scene ends.

I was impulsive. Rook: I was so determined to save that village I couldn't wait for reinforcements… But if I'd failed, I'd have left a gap for darkspawn to pour through and kill thousands. I have to get better at seeing the big picture. Scene ends.

3 - Lord of Fortune Place Jeweled Pitcher Rook: Best drink of my whole life: fresh water from this pitcher after Varric and I got out of the trap set by that double-crossing noble. We didn't know how close he was to the throne of Rivain… Or that stopping him would get me kicked out of the Lords of Fortune "until the heat dies down."

Dialogue options:

I made the right call. Rook: Who cares about the politics? I kept a dangerous artifact out of Venatori hands. The Lords should've had my back. Scene ends.

I suppose it was fair. Rook: I won't apologize for surviving a double-cross… but if me leaving helped the Lords handle the politics, it was a small price to pay. Scene ends.

I was impulsive. Rook: If I'd been a little bit less proud of myself, the queen might not have blamed the Lords for what happened. I have to get better at seeing the big picture. Scene ends.

4 - Mourn Watch Place Nevarran Urn Rook: Baron Van Markham. You wanted the undead to rule Nevarra… but you forgot about the Mourn Watch. Then after I put you down, the Mourn Watch sent me away with Varric to stop the noble families from complaining.

Dialogue options:

I made the right call. Rook: The Mourn Watch is supposed to protect the world from dangers outside the realms of the living. That's what I did… even if it wasn't politically convenient. Scene ends.

I suppose it was fair. Rook: The Mourn Watch protects the world from dangers outside the realms of the living, which I did… But I guess that includes dealing with the consequences. Scene ends.

I was impulsive. Rook: If I'd considered, found some way to stop the baron without destroying him and angering half of Nevarra… I have to get better at seeing the big picture. Scene ends.

5 - Shadow Dragon Place Broken Chains Rook: I helped a lot of Minrathous slaves escape to freedom the night I met Varric. Then the magisters cracked down in retaliation, and the Shadow Dragons decided I was too much trouble to keep around.

Dialogue options:

I made the right call. Rook: We could have taken a stand and dared the magisters to come after us. At least people are free because of what I did. Scene ends.

I suppose it was fair. Rook: I'm never going to apologize for freeing slaves… but I hope the Shadow Dragons got through the backlash safely. Scene ends.

I was impulsive. Rook: I was so proud of myself… and then the Venatori backlash put a lot of Shadow Dragons in danger. I'm never going to apologize for freeing slaves, but… I have to get better at seeing the big picture. Scene ends.

6 - Veil Jumper Place the Elven Artifact Fragment Rook: This piece is all that's left of the artifact that trapped Varric and the others in Arlathan Forest the day we met. Only thing left of my time with the Veil Jumpers, too. Strife said he didn't want to see me again until I'd gotten some sense pounded into my head.

Dialogue options:

I made the right call. Rook: Being a Veil Jumper means taking risks. Strife of all people should've understood that. Scene ends.

I suppose it was fair. Rook: I'll never regret saving everyone, but I probably could've been more apologetic about disobeying orders. Hope I can make it right with Strife one day. Scene ends.

I was impulsive. Rook: Looking back on it… Strife was right. If I hadn't been lucky, I could've gotten a lot of people killed. I have to get better at seeing the big picture. Scene ends.

Next: Race and Class Decor

[afkhowstrange]

My Merlin’s lore and afkj headcanons

THERE WILL BE SPOILERS!!!

English isn’t my first language, i can’t write a decent story so i’m gonna yap the hell out of her lore:

- She goes by Rose since it was the only thing remained in her head the moment she woke up with severe memory loss or rather wiped.

- Thank god Merlin aka the not-yet-amnesiac-Rose left her a note filled with rules:

Dura’s orders and these following rules are the utmost things you should obey

1. If encounter a hypofiend, kill on sight

2. Keep moving forward, there’s no point of looking at your past

3. Help those who are in need if possible

4. Enjoy your new life, live to your heart’s content

5. Treat those you consider friends generously

6. Be well prepared for what’s to come, believe in yourself

Supreme Magister Merlin, Rose.

Rose was very skeptical of this note but later on, no one seemed to understand the language written on the note so it’s real legit she thinks.

- Merlin also left her infinite scroll filled with spells, incantations, hexes, jinxes and curses in alphabetical order, in a language only she could read of course. The only difficulty was to learn them all over again.

- The time when Rose goes into avatar state was actually Dura protecting her.

- Hammie helped Rose a lot with how to use magic. The little familiars were shocked and uneased that their master lost her memories all of a sudden, but as time goes by, they got used to the new magister eventually. The fact that the iconic traits of their master is still there, helped them feel at ease.

- Can’t say the same with Rose though, girl got existential crisis and impostor syndrome after finding out her magic (aside from the spells that Dura blessed her) is weak as hell compared to the great magister Merlin that Hogan and Mirael knew.

- She burned her ass out later on, learing spells, training in combat with Chippy, trying to reach people’s expectations of the great Merlin, if people find out their protector, Dura’s chosen one is a wimp, they’ll lose their faith.

Now, onto my headcanons of afkj’s lore

These multiple people holding out to the swords isn’t Merlin, they’re the fallen god’s Chosen ones.

I think these lines explained it well. Gosh i love Waves of intrigue.

Multiple heroes wielding swords, only one holding a torch, that’s our Magister Merlin!

If you’re sad that our Merlin doesn’t have a sword, worry not, they got a pretty sick one right here 👇 keep in mind that Phraesto is 205cm tall and this sword is longggg

And that’s it, thank you for reading, there’s more about Rose and her past rocking in the Inmortal war but that’s for another day, my phone is lagging as i was writing these words :,(

Here have some art! …yeah i isekai-ed my oc to Esperia to be Merlin so that’s why she got that hairstyle.

[teamtakagi]

Words with Friends: Redolent

Thank you for tagging me, @bubblecat-co ! I needed a break from the art prompts, haha.

If you're seeing this and want to participate, I'm tagging YOU. 🫵

____

Rules: Use the challenge word to write a sentence or scene and then tag a few friends!

This week's word is Redolent

Definition: 1. Fragrant or aromatic; having a sweet scent. 2. Having the smell of the article in question. 3. Suggestive or reminiscent.

A continuation of my "Jerran and Neve investigating the disappearance of a magister's son" story that keeps popping up.

The original post that started all of this : First post (last prompt)

Please read last week's Words with Friends post before reading the next part since it directly continues afterwards.

______

Ulma watched the smoke curl in the air for a few moments. “Next shipment of slaves is tomorrow. Your little magister’s brat should be in it. Heard that he’ll fetch a good price. Lithe body and all. Tell your boss he owes me extra.”

Jerran nodded. “I’ll pass the message.” He jerked his head to Neve, who took the hint. 

Once back in the upper streets of Docktown, Neve turned to Jerran. “A Midnight Star member?”

“Former. Not proud of it.” Jerran took a deep breath, inhaling the salty tang. “Let’s go. We don’t have much time once word gets out.”

_____

“Right. I’ll let Rana know what’s going on.” Neve nodded. “Good work, Thorne. Wouldn’t have thought you had it in you.”

He smirked. “I like to surprise people. Maybe don’t tell Rana about this, yeah?” 

“You got it.” 

Jerran and Neve dodged and wove their way through the docks; Hal’s cajoling voice taunted them with the promise of his delicious fish. I’ll see you tomorrow night, buddy, Jerran silently promised the fish sticks as he passed the stall.

Elves and humans dressed in a variety of clothing ranging from rags to cheap silks wove between the cramped displays, bartering with merchants. Children chased each other through the crowd. A boy bumped into him, his hand skillfully slipping into Jerran’s pocket. “Sorry, mister.” 

Almost absently, Jerran grabbed the boy’s small wrist and forced him to release the few rocks that Jerran had left there just for that purpose. “Nice try, kid.” 

Then he smelled it. A redolent, spicy tobacco – a unique heady mix of elfroot, blood lotus, and other smells that he couldn't name – that he knew as surely as the Darkspawn stench that now surrounded him daily. It was one that had mingled with campfire smoke and coated his lungs on many nights throughout his teenage years.

Jerran barely registered the boy’s curses as he scrambled away. Whipping his head around, he scoured the area for anything out of place. Only tired dockworkers loading barrels and beggars crying out for coins met his frantic gaze. 

“Jerran. Jerran!” Neve’s voice brought him back to the present. 

Jerran glanced at Neve. “Do you smell that?”

“Smell what?” Neve closed her eyes and sniffed deeply. “Yeah, that pipe smoke? It’s a good blend. Potent though. Do you know it?”

“It’s custom-made. The original blender died shortly after in a fire that destroyed his shop and the recipe was stolen.” Every instinct screamed at him to run. He passed the Shadow Dragons’ pawn shop front, ignoring the slight nods from the members loitering outside.

Neve pulled him into a nearby alley and leaned close, almost touching nose to nose. “Spit it out, Thorne. What’s got you spooked?”

“Neve, I'm sorry.” Jerran drew a shaking hand over his face. His mouth felt drier than the southern Wastelands, and it took several tries to get the words out.  “Get Lucanis or Taash. Split the dinner with them. I can’t help you with this job.”

[thegeminisage]

Rate Your OC: Rook Mercar

i was tagged by @itsrainingpandas, thank you!!! everybody go read this fic it made me nuts

Compassion: 8/10

giving her a high but not 100% rating on this because i think she's incredibly compassionate and cares a lot about the greater good, but that compassion is also conditional. for example, let's say a...coworker's grandmother died and he was DEVASTATED. she would show up with bad jokes and a can-do attitude and go to go to the funeral with him etcetc. if that same thing happened to like. idk a magister. she would show up at the funeral not for moral support but to throw rotten vegetables. 

Bitterness: 1,000,000/10

what's so funny is if you asked rook if she was bitter she would respond, with chest, like haha what? no! that's silly! who has that kind of time! and then she would go stare at herself in the mirror for ten minutes without moving. i don't think even she realizes it until it's time to choose between cities and she just...can't care about minrathous, her birthplace and home for the last ~15 years, more than she cares about treviso, which she visited for the first time five metaphorical minutes ago. a lot of shitty stuff has happened to her and most of it was not her fault, and because her parents were slaves, and because (at least in my mind palace, but i am extrapolating from what we hear from dorian and krem) minrathous is not a good place to be trans, and because, as a shadow dragon, she sees the evils of that city up close day in and day out...i think she reached critical mass at about the same time the dragon attack happened and then spent a long time second-guessing how she feels and what really matters to her. 

Happiness: 7/10

despite all that, i don't think rook is one to dwell unless like. something comes up. varric says about all rooks that they tend to think in straight lines, and i interpret that to mean if she has a goal or work she finds meaning in, people to share life with, and nothing overtly rancid is actively happening to her, she is satisfied. she's very quick with the jokes and one of those people who are like. what can you even do but laugh about it. the city choice was just the perfect storm of awfulness.

Chivalry: 0/10

she grew up on a boat. for the first ~13 years of her life she associated exclusively with sailors and dockhands and their children. she knows the cuss words in every language in thedas and has no respect for authority. 

Pride: 3/10

all but impossible to embarrass. if she tripped over her own feet or accidentally smacked herself in the face with her staff or stuck her foot in her mouth she'd cope with that pretty easily. she doesn't do awkward moments. this sort of comes from the trans coffee date dialogue ("life is too short to be defined by other people") which implies she really doesn't care what others think. her one thing is, having spent so much time in tevinter where it's only been legal to be trans for as long as maevaris tilani has been doing it, being weird about that in any way will get her shoulders up around her ears. like, she still doesn't care what you think but in the way that she is preparing herself to punch you about it if she has to.

Honesty: 5/10

she has a good poker face (grace face?) but she's kind of a bad liar. it's not even that she objects to lying morally. she's 100% pro lying (she was friends with varric, after all). she's just not good at it. she can tell little fibs and sometimes con her way past guards or soldiers in the moment when a plan requires it (sorry for the m*rvel reference but she COULD do get help), but usually when she has to lie she goes "fuck it" and just starts swinging. she also can't keep Big Secrets from loved ones without it eating her inside and she would also be useless at anything resembling a long con or deep undercover work. no solas-esque double life for her.

Bravery: 11/10

i think this applies to all rooks, really. you kind of have to be to tangle with gods.

Recklessness: 11/10

i feel like this is also a universal rook trait - every rook did something reckless to get kicked out of their home country prior to teaming up with varric, and varric says that "thinks in straight lines" thing about all rooks too, but yes, she leaps before she looks unless there are lives on the line, in which case she does both at the same time.

Ambition: 0/10

it's a good thing she wasn't the protagonist of inquisition because she would've hacked her arm off right then and there and told them to deal with it themselves. she does Not like being a leader and can't wait until varric gets better so he can take the job back from her :)

Loyalty: 9/10 

it would have been 10/10 before she stabbed neve in the back with the city choice <3

Love: 8/10

rook loves pretty easily (not just romantically, but in all senses) and is pretty open about loving people, but she's lost so many people that she worries that she'll eventually get hurt again. which is inevitable, but she can't ever seem to help herself. for lucanis specifically, rook tried very hard NOT to love him (she has abomination trauma) and then did anyway in spite (lol) of her best intentions.

Sense of Family: 5/10

she loved her parents a lot and had a really good relationship with them both prior to them dying in the mage-templar conflict at the end of da2, and she considers the shadow dragons her found family...until they kick her out. having lost two families in a row, she's a little slower to come to terms with the idea of the veilguard team as her family, but she gets there eventually. with the exception of varric, of course. she came to think of him as family pretty quickly. probably there involved a little bit of booze and her ugly sobbing on his shoulder about the unfairness of it all re: kirkwall and then they couldn't not be friends after that. boy, it's a good thing that lyrium dagger missed his heart and that he's got a nice big infirmary to recover in, she would be devastated if anything happened to the guy who gave her her name!

Attractiveness: ??/10

i don't think i can judge this objectively. that said, i did go into the CC (before i even knew i was making an OC out of her) intending to make her a little plain, because always seeing these dragon age supermodels makes things feel...a little unrealistic. she's not supposed to be super sexy, she's just Some Guy (gender neutral). i DO think it's really funny that lucanis (demi king) is like "yeah she's fine i guess objectively she's pretty enough" until he falls for her and then suddenly without her having altered her appearance at all he finds her so attractive that he's walking into walls

Agility: 5/10

she's no rogue or anything, but she did get combat training from her mom, who used to be one of danarius's bodyguards. coincidentally, one of the weapons she did best with was a quarterstaff, which means as a mage she can also just...beat people up with her staff even if she gets silenced. very handy.

Sex Drive: 10/10

she was taking the thedas version of estrogen starting in her late teens and had NO adult supervision when she was adopted by the anti-slavery group who eventually formed the shadow dragons. she was having so much casual sex. safe sex! consensual sex! don't worry. she got sex ed and she doesn't get into anything hinky she can't get herself out of. but lots of sex. she gets horny so often it annoys her. during the year she spent hanging out with varric and harding she'd be like sorry lads i've gotta step away for the evening and theyre like AGAIN and she is like yeah again and trust me i also wish i was not like this. this is specifically to contrast with lucanis, who didn't even really know what being horny felt like until he met her.

I AM TAGGING: @maulthots @slaygentford @sun-marie @flowersforthemachines unless you've done it already, in which case, whoops. AND i'm tagging anybody else who wants to do it do it & say i tagged you <3

[dramatiquechipmunk]

✨ first line tag game ✨

Thank you to the lovelies @deadly-diminuendo and @vividiana for the tags ❤️ i really like this idea! I have 9 prose based fics posted, so added my 10th from an unposted WIP 1. The crowd is already screaming. 2. New York City, November 1954.  3. The dawn broke over the horizon, spilling golden light across the beach, painting the chaos in hues that almost masked the grim truth of it. 4. “How much longer do you need?” Astarion groaned dramatically, letting his head fall back against the headboard. 5. Octavia was sprawled across her couch like a Victorian maiden who had just received devastating news—except the only tragedy here was that she was incredibly horny. 6. The kitchen, Astarion decided, was hell. 7. Astarion huffed dramatically, staring down at the crumpled piece of parchment in his hand 8. They could hear it.  9. “Maybe I just say... ‘ I thought it would be nice to get some fresh air today, just the two of us .’ 10. [WIP] On this 6th day of Tarsakh, in the year 1495 of the Dale Reckoning, in the High Hall under the authority of the Council of Four, I, Magister Beren Ashtide, deliver final judgment in the matter of The People of Baldur’s Gate versus Lord Astarion Ancunin, case number BG-7491-MJ. Tag, you're it @roguishcat, @alwaysmauria, @strixamans, @arachnomancer

[sunstoner]

happy pride people of the internet

is your gender a bit fucky? are you tired of the same old same old honorifics? are you simply just bored and looking for some reading material? well youre in luck!

in my scouring of this site ive yet to find one giant list of alternate honorifics/prefixes/titles or whatever you want to call them (maybe i didnt look hard enough, who knows) so i decided "fuck it! let me make my own." it took a while to find these and i definitely have to thank the gender census for a lot of them. (note: this is probably not all possible prefixes! these are just what i could find and what i could find pronunciations for (excluding part 4). feel free to mention any others & their pronunciations!)

anyways! continue below the part

part one: matching

these honorifics/prefixes/titles look similar enough to mr/ms/mrs/miss while also not being those. and no, its not just mx! note: for space purposes there may be a list of titles with one pronunciation

1. m.

can be pronounced em, mist, messer, master, or magister

2. m*.

pronounced miss-star

3. ma.

pronounced mistra

4. me.

can be pronounced mew or messer

5. mg.

can be pronounced mage or magister

6. mir.

pronounced mir

7. msc. ; misc.

pronounced misk, shortened from miscellaneous

8. mist. ; mrm. ; msm. ; mtr.

pronounced mistrum

9. ml.

pronounced mistrel

10. mm.

can be pronounced mistum or mistrum

11. mn.

pronounced mine

12. mnt.

pronounced mount

13. mq.

can be pronounced mick or marquis

14. mre.

can be pronounced mistree or mystery

15. mrsr.

pronounced merser

16. mrw.

pronounced morrow

17. mry. ; mse. ; mys. ; myst.

pronounced mystery

18. msr.

can be pronounced messr or misser

19. msry.

pronounced misry

20. mssr.

pronounced messer

21. mst.

pronounced mist

22. mstr.

pronounced master

23. mt.

can be pronounced mount or mistrum

24. mtx.

pronounced matrix

25. mu.

pronounced as written

26. mv.

pronounced maverique

27. mw.

can be pronounced mew or morrow

28. mx.

can be pronounced mix, mex, mux, mixter, mistrum, or monselle

29. mxr.

pronounced mixer

30. myr.

pronounced myster

31. mz.

pronounced miz

32. mzr.

can be pronounced mezzir or mezzer

part two: branching

these honorifics/prefixes/titles are the same as part one, but they look different from the "default" format. so many letters. note: for space purposes there may be a list of titles with one pronunciation

1. an.

pronounced any

2. c. ; cap. ; capt. ; cpt. ; cptn. ; ct.

pronounced captain

3. cd. ; cde. ; cmd. ; cmr. ; cmrd. ; com.

pronounced comrade

4. cit. ; ctz. ; cz. ; czn.

pronounced citizen

5. cnst.

pronounced constellation

6. cr.

can be pronounced comrade or cryptid

7. de.

pronounced done

6. div.

pronounced div, shortened from individual

7. dm.

pronounced dame

8. dr.

pronounced doctor

9. drst.

pronounced dearest

10. em.

pronounced as written

11. en.

can be pronounced enby or entity

12. ent.

pronounced entity

13. eu.

pronounced eunuch

14. fh.

pronounced fellow human

15. fw.

pronounced fellow worker

16. hm.

pronounced human

17. hon.

pronounced on, shortened from honorable

18. hx.

pronounced hex

19. ind.

pronounced as written, shortened from individual

20. inv.

pronounced inevitable

21. jan.

pronounced as written

22. lic.

pronounced licenciature

23. nb.

pronounved en bee, shortened from nonbinary

24. nl.

pronounced null

25. nr.

pronounced nister

26. nx.

can be pronounced nix or nex

27. per. ; pr.

can be pronounced per or person

28. phl.

pronounced philosophe

29. prof.

pronounced professor

30. rab.

pronounced rabbi

31. rev.

pronounced reverand

32. sai.

pronounced sigh

33. san.

pronounced as written

34. ser.

can be pronounced ser or serah

35. sr.

can be pronounced sir or serrah

36. syr.

pronounced as written

37. sys.

pronounced system

38. the.

pronounced as written

39. tr.

can be pronounced ter or teacher

40. vd.

pronounced void

41. vr.

pronounced ver

42. vx.

can be pronounced vix or vex

43. xr.

pronounced xer

44. zr.

can be pronounced zir or zeester

part three: sir? ma'am?

these honorifics are specifically meant to replace the sir/ma'am words. they feel different than the other ones so they get their own part.

1. boss

2. captain

3. chief

4. comrade

5. friend

6. gentile

7. m'ir

8. sa'am

9. sai

10. tiz

11. xir

12. zir

part four: how do you say...

these honorifics are ones i couldnt find pronunciations for... if you know em lmk please & thanks 🫰🏾

1. sn.

thats it, i couldnt find a pronunciation for it but i thought it was cool 🤸🏾

thats all folks

i might update depending on the responses i get and anything else i find :)

last edits: 3 jun 2024